My two-year-old daughter stationed herself by her week-old sister’s infant seat, stroking her tiny bald head. Awww, she looked so sweet and protective. What a little angel. I smiled as I walked out through the sliding-glass kitchen door to start the charcoal grill. And here I’d been so concerned about her series of little jealous behaviors all week. Silly me–I was just worrying too much. Look how she was even trying to read her favorite little Elmo book to the baby.

In my moment of complacency, I turned my back for a moment as I lit the coals. In that moment, I heard a sickening “click”–the sound of the door lock being pushed into place. I wheeled around just in time to see my two-year-old give me a crooked little evil-genius grin and then hunker down to “take care” of Little Sis. The baby was wearing just a diaper and t-shirt, and the little black remnant of umbilical cord stuck out prominently–almost ready to fall off. I watched in horror as my two-year-old began fiddling with her sister’s tender navel area. I banged on the door with all my might. “Open the door! Let Mommy back in!” Then I started screaming out treat bribes. “A pony, a pony! Mommy will get you a pink pony. Just open the door!”

The two-year-old merely looked annoyed. I could almost see the wheels turning in her head. “Hmmmm…Mommy just won’t leave us alone to have our fun, darling Sis. This is disconcerting having to watch her embarrassing display of panic through the glass. Come with me, Helpless One, and I’ll show you a good time. Mwah-hah-haaahhh. ”

Big Sis leaned over and grabbed Baby Sis by the shoulders in a jerky, awkward motion–then dragged her from her carseat, onto her belly, and out of my line of sight. All I could see was a thin, faint trail of blood from the place where the baby’s umbilical cord was detaching. The blood continued into the carpeted area of the next room, where it was sort of mixed in with the gray carpet lint.

How to get into the house….safe mommy that I was, I always locked the front door. Oh yes, I had given a spare to the neighbor not long ago! I ran to the neighbor’s house and found her at home. Barely coherent at this point, I begged for the key. “Baby….belly button…locked me out…dragging her all around…BLOOD.” Got the key, ran back home, burst in the door. A scene of sisterly “love” met my eyes. Baby lying on the living room floor with a doll hat on her head and vinyl purse slung (rather jauntily) on her shoulder. Blood-flecked, fuzzy navel notwithstanding, she really looked okay. I exhaled and swooped in to grab the baby off the floor. “Oh, HI Mommy” Blue eyes wide, voice innocent. “It’s a fun party!”